One Pace From Disgrace: The Jester's Cross
by Full-Moon-Phoenix
Summary: From escaping the asylum to leading the rebellion, from losing Festivia and Eclipsa to swearing an oath to put them back where they belong, Toffee has struggled to answer the call of the Realm of Magic and free his people from the Mewmans once and for all. But how much blood does he need to shed to keep his promise, and will fighting his own family be worth it in the end?
1. Prologue: Gone Speechless

**Prologue: Gone Speechless**

_"You can't do this! This is _my_ family you tore apart; Festivia is _my_ child!"_

_"Not anymore."_

_"... ... ..."_

_"You're first, old man..."_

The queen of Mewni trudged on in a huff, her ears ringing with conversations and events she knew she was not meant to witness. The train of her deep violet robe flowed back and forth in the luminous water, standing out alarmingly against the sparkling gold. A light splash against her back made her pause, soaking her robe, sleeves, and thick curly hair, as the figure that had stumbled desperately toward her lost its footing in the shallow waves and fell onto its knees. The queen looked down at the shadow of goat horns and enormous bat wings looming over the water at her feet.

"Please. You don't understand." Lekmet bleated desperately.

It always came out as a bleat, the "baaaaaa" of a goat, which she had always found strangely annoying. There was a supernatural property in his voice which allowed his words to be understood by all ears, though the sound itself never changed. There had to be. What good would a Supreme High Chancellor be if no one could understand him? Of course, it was of magical origin, and like all magic, it could be countered.

"That's where you're wrong." Celena the Shy kept her back turned to him. She clenched her fists. "I understand everything. I already knew I wasn't really a Butterfly."

"...How long?"

"Since I was a child. From the moment I first held that wand, I knew it never truly belonged to me. I knew about the lost princess. I knew who- _and what_ -my ancestors really were." She turned her head and glared from the corner of her eye. "But what I _didn't_ know was _how_ my great grandmother came to be here."

Lekmet gulped. "It wasn't easy."

Celena inhaled sharply. She turned around slowly to face the Chancellor in his meek kneeling state; his pitiful eyes, his soaked robes and fur, his trembling hooved hands around his fallen cane. Her own hands trembled with ages of suppressed rage. She removed the hood from her face, briefly revealing her diamond-shaped third eye before pale rose bangs covered it again, and exhaled slowly.

"What, exactly? _Which_ moment wasn't easy?

The Chancellor said nothing, knowing there was no right response.

Celena sighed. "And there it is. The saddest thing about all this is how you can't answer that."

"We didn't have a choi-"

"Yes, you did," Celena said, eerily calm. "You could've let her go."

Lekmet shrank, his words gone. Celena straightened and continued.

"Instead, you silenced them to cover your crimes and hide instead of facing the truth. Instead, you stole her _twice_." Venom dripped from the last word, followed by a bitter sigh. "I was always afraid I'd be silenced for knowing this. I lived without a voice of my own, locked in a cage of fear because I know you'll never stop trying to silence people like us..."

She pulled her necklace out from inside her robe, revealing a vial of glowing green sand. She pulled a cork from the opening and emptied it all into her palm. A sharp glint shone in her eyes, a suppressed ferocity which Lekmet had surely never seen from her before.

"...Well, now it's _your_ turn to go unheard."

She blew the sand into his face. He coughed and inhaled some of it, only making him cough more. When his fit subsided, he stood back up and bleated in annoyance...and that was all she heard.

"Huh. It worked." Celena cocked her head. She smiled sweetly. "I can't understand a thing!"

Lekmet gasped and touched his throat. "Baaaa?!"

She had no idea what he was saying, only able to note the panic in his voice. Good. She strode up to him and lifted her chin to look him in the eye.

"_I'm_ going to speak my mind... and _you_ will never tell a single soul what you hear."

Her ghostly voice haunted him to the bone. Lekmet had at least two full heads over the frail queen, but their height difference meant nothing to her anymore. Nor did his stature, position, or power. For this one moment in time, Celena the Shy had the upper hand.

"Festivia's bloodline ruined this kingdom, and you have only yourselves to blame for it. Sure, you don't have an uprising to worry about, at least not in _this_ age; I know there's nothing I can do to stop the lot of you. But I've seen the ones that can. When the Jester before me breaks free...and he _will_ break free...he'll be coming for _you_ first.

"And, bless your heart, my Chancellor, I don't have the strength to defend you. I'm just too tired. Tired of being anxious and afraid; of you, of Mewmans and Monsters, of this kingdom, of magic. Glossaryck himself lost the strength _long_ ago; that's why he abandoned you. He's practically abandoned magic, and sometimes I think he had the right idea. Sometimes, I wish it would all just ... disappear."

Lekmet shifted uncomfortably, then shook his head in disapproval.

"You don't think it's possible," Celena said. "Would you like to know a secret? I know how to make it all go away. The unicorns taught me. Not that I'd ever do anything like that. But it's nice to know the option's there."

Her voice was oddly sweet and casual compared to the weight of her suggestion, which earned only an incredulous stare from Lekmet. Celena turned away to gaze into the distance. Whether she was contemplating or ignoring, the Supreme High Chancellor saw no choice but to retreat back to the well he'd fallen from. Shoulders slumped and trembling, he disappeared upward.

Celena shook her head, then felt a nudge at her ankles. A little pony with deep purple fur and a black mane rubbed against her. She gave into its sad eyes, the poor thing frightened by the argument, and sat down to cradle it. The tiny unicorn was brimming with dark magic, stable and soothing as a still, silent midnight. Indeed, there were some aspects of magic Celena would miss.

She thought about what Lekmet would try to say to the others, if anything. What, or who, would they blame it on this time? Surely they'd all agree that the Queen of Darkness had started this ordeal. She blew hair out of her face. The reclusive queen would give up her crown tomorrow and free herself from their game of blame, but she wondered how much longer her family would have to put up with it before gaining the courage or opportunity to speak up.

"Eclipsa couldn't help being a Spade of Darkness." She pet the dark unicorn absent-mindedly, speaking to ears she knew would not understand. "No more than I can help being a Jester."


	2. Scattered Minds, Shattered Lives

**_Author's Note:_**_ For anyone still wondering what kind of story this is, it's an AU where Toffee has been haunted by the call of the Realm of Magic his entire life, which over some time became a slow-burn Toffee backstory fanfiction I've been waiting a really long time to post! It's inspired in part by the New Albion musical series by Paul __Shapera__, from which the title of this story is drawn, so a lot of sentences and chapter titles will be paying homage to his works (I highly recommend listening to The Dolls of New Albion: A Steampunk Opera)._

_I delve more into this AU on my Tumblr blog new-moon-over-__septarsis__. Tread at your own risk: it contains spoilers and/or scrapped plots._

_Happy reading, Toffee fans! Welcome to the true first chapter!_

* * *

_**Scattered Minds, Shattered Lives**_

_*****__When your world's been crushed_

_And your new world is fear_

_And your dreams brutalized a__nd shattered like mirrors_

_And you flee on the run w__ith a face full of tears_

_Join us, my love, j__oin us right here...*_

* * *

The word "scatterbrained" came to mind often. Though he hadn't the slightest grasp on neither the word "scatter" nor "brain", it was the first word that appeared whenever he tried to make coherent thought of his situation. Perhaps it was just a familiar word. A familiar feeling, to lose one's mind.

The lone Septarian's consciousness floated around in a haze, his brain's instinct for survival naturally fighting to grip onto anything remotely resembling awareness. He was aware enough to know that time was, in fact, a thing and that he existed outside it, but not enough to know how much or even _if_ it was passing. Though it wasn't exactly easy to catch sand between your fingers while you're sinking in it, and the very thing he tried to grasp seemed to want him buried.

Yet every once in awhile that damned sound would bring him back to the bare minimum of consciousness. That song that plagued both his subconscious and waking hours, a volatile melody of lonely unicorns that seemed to crave his scattered mind all for themselves instead. He'd hear it again, remembering for just an instant, and he'd sink through the sand entirely, somehow escaping it. Sometimes, in those brief moments of vision, he'd be back in the Royal Archives. Sometimes he'd be back at Pie Island, or Septarsis, or even around those cursed bonfires in the Forest of Certain Death.

This time he'd fallen back into the asylum. The white walls, uncharacteristically sterile, shifted and waved, threatening to fade away at any moment. He squinted at them, trying to remember something, _anything_, but under focus they'd return to normal. He remembered enough to know there should have been a smell. Chemicals, blood, waste, even ash from the charred remains of magical experiments.

But nothing. And it was this lack of familiarity that jarred him slightly out of senselessness. _St. Orville's_, he thought, as he softly brushed the scar on his temple. There should have been suffering here. Dirt, grime, putrid stenches, cries of anguish. Now: only a hall. And that fact didn't calm his heart in the slightest.

Where dread fell, _she_ was always close behind. Her, in all her gifts and flaws, the flame that never seemed to burn out, whether needed for the hearth or scorned for the wildfire. Juno the Daring darted past him, stunning orange hair the only glimpse he caught before she disappeared around the corner. She took that song with her wherever she went. But it'd be back. It always came back.

Sometimes he'd follow her, sometimes he wouldn't. This time he passed that room on the way, and time came to a halt, as it always would near his father's cell. He'd usually turn his head away, but this time he walked inside. He wasn't surprised to see the burnt remains of his family's living room rather than chains and a hospital bed. He knelt before the pile of splintered beams, wanting so desperately to just have a normal tombstone to set flowers by rather than burnt ruins.

_They're not coming back, are they...?_

_No._

Brutally honest as usual. It was what he needed. And it was what Seth always provided. The lone lizard looked up, expecting to see Seth's shadow looming over him and the pile. But no shadow. No pile. Just the barred window of the hospital room. He stood and touched his hand to the bars. This was his father's cell, not his own, so he didn't expect to see the flickering street lamp. Of course, he didn't expect to see _them_ either. But there they were: the two most important girls in his life, so close yet forever out of reach. He wanted to turn his head away, knowing, though, that their images would be everywhere he looked.

Teal hair and red spades stood out vividly against the brown horizon, the woman's rich black dress and white lace a shining star against the empty night sky. And the child whose shoulders she held. The false child. The lost child. Hair as deep violet as the finest grapes, and eyes like shimmering blue bubbles that made his heart swell. His cherished Festivia leaned back against her "mother", who stared at him through the bars with disdain so unlike her.

_No one is coming back for you. _Eclipsa, the Queen of Darkness, viciously echoed Seth's words.

The lone monster was taken aback. Burning cords constricted his heart. He wanted to rip his hair out, to scream and sob into the void. The ones who'd left him behind, whether by choice or by force, all so close yet so unable to reach out and touch. And the only constant that stayed with him was _that damned song. _All he could do was clench his fists and let the fire rage through his soul.

The void started to collapse around him, walls glitching and shifting in every direction, the fuzziness of sand permeating his brain again. As everything scattered, the lone father looked Eclipsa dead in the eye, pointing at Festivia, and shouted.

_But _she_ did! Where were _you_?!_

* * *

The sound of something like crumbling rocked mixed with shattered glass smacked his eardrums, and intense blue light blinded him from every direction. An overpowering reflex forced him to gasp for air as though he hadn't breathed in eons. The events of his dream- hallucination? -faded quickly, crumbling under the weight of his memories. The events that transpired just moments ago flooded back.

Jester Cross remembered.

The Archives. The Scroll. _Her_.

"F-Fe...Festi...Festiv..." He tried calling her name, but his voice caught in his throat. He nearly fell into a coughing fit, and all he could do was take deep breaths. Hunched over gasping, his eyes squinted against the light. He tried forcing them open, slowly, shifting left and right looking for her. This wasn't the Royal Archives, though. This was ... somewhere. His vision cleared, and scattered across the floor around him were crystal shards and ... a chair?

He traced the debris to his feet, but found them suspended from the ground, frozen, trapped. He was encased all the way to the floor, unable to move his legs or right arm. He lifted his head, and enormous blue crystals of all shapes and sizes spread out through his field of vision, most looming over him. They filled a shining palace of smooth blue diamond walls and floors, the open ceiling showcasing a dazzling night sky.

But Jester gaped in horror at every Monster, every creature, _every person_ encased in a giant crystal of their own.

_So _this_ is where they all go._

A series of heavy thumps and voices arguing echoed at his back. Finally starting to slow his breathing, he craned his neck to look behind him; though his right arm was still encased and trapped at his side, his left was free, and he propped it against the jagged opening of his semi-broken prison to angle his head and torso just a bit. A massive staircase curved downward behind him, and at the bottom was a bulky figure on his hands and knees; bruised, groaning, struggling back onto his feet after what looked to be a painful tumble. He growled and darted his large diamond-shaped head back and forth looking for his assailant.

Jester stiffened, not daring to move or breathe. He'd recognize that brute anywhere. _Rhombulus_. He took note of panicked voices in the background raging at the brute to stop. A coy feminine voice rang out above the others.

"Oh, Rhombulus, is _that_ how you try to feel justified? Throwing a hissy fit at a poor, defenseless woman like me? Shame on you," the voice tsked, no doubt a cheeky grin behind it.

It was all starting to come together. The scuffle. The chair. The debris. Their disregard of him. This was an accident. He wasn't supposed to be free.

Jester was suddenly really glad he hadn't called out.

In just the right mood at just the right angle and just the right placement below the stairs, no one had taken notice of him still. That wouldn't last long, though. With every next voice he recognized he felt his chances of staying undetected dwindling. He needed to escape; slowly, silently, carefully, but swiftly. Jester drowned out the voices, the arguing, the distractions, and focused.

There was no feeling in his body from the hips down, but all he needed was his arm and torso. One arm should be enough to pull himself up. He propped one hand against a smooth and sturdy part of the crystal, wiggled his right shoulder a bit, and lifted.

Nothing. He tried again. Nothing.

The culprit was his right arm, trapped from the elbow down in an awkward position close to his body. Although feeling slowly came back to his limbs with every strain of his muscles, his arm still wouldn't budge. Not when he moved his shoulder, nor from wiggling his body, nor from grabbing with his other arm and pulling. He strained with all his might, but all his might wasn't enough.

_Omnitraxus__, you snake. This is _your_ fault. _

Jester growled at the feeling of being crushed in the celestial giant's fist, arms trapped at his side, barely getting one arm free and a few words out before the blast filled his vision. He would _not_ be trapped again_. _The Septarian knew his advantages and knew them well, and the pain would be worth the freedom. He reached for the sickle blade on his back, thankful beyond measure to find it still there. Steadying it just above his elbow, he drew a long, deep breath.

_It'll grow back. You've done this before. Several times. It's fine. You'll be fine._

The trembles and sweat begged to differ. It'd been so long since he had to do it, what if the pain was too much nowadays?

_SLAM!_

_"Since when do you give a damn about respect, you pompous, horse-haired Monster-smoocher!?"_

Jester's blood ran cold. That berserker's shrill voice was more recognizable than all. It stayed a permanent echo in the halls of his mind even decades after he'd escaped the halls of that asylum. But why? Why did Mina Loveberry have to be there? Forget the pain, forget the fear, forget the caution: he had to escape NOW!

He bit down hard on his sleeve, both to tighten it and for the stress, and steadied himself. The adrenaline washed over him with no resistance, and the blade, still perfectly sharpened down to the last atom even after all it'd been through, sliced clean through his arm. It even forced itself halfway through the bone before catching still. Jester doubled over grunting through gritted teeth, desperately suppressing a scream. But he kept sawing the rest of the way. Kept pushing the pain down, down, down...

Three more slashes was all it took. The crystal caught his upper body falling back, and as he inhaled sharply through his teeth he lifted his raw bloodied right arm up and willed the exposed muscle and bone back into its rightful shape. Skin wormed and wiggled its way around newly grown fingers, which he squeezed into a fist the moment brand new feeling spread throughout the nerves, already washing away the pain.

Proud determination overcame him. It hadn't hurt nearly as much as he'd expected. Even after the lone Septarian had grown soft and rusty, he still had it. He still remained strong. At least he certainly hoped so, for the sake of his escape.

_BOOM! CRASH!_

Jester gasped. No time left to lose. He propped both hands on the jagged crystal edges, pulled his body out, and jumped out onto the floor. Stumbling for a moment until feeling came to his legs, he hid behind his former crystal prison and tried to get a good look at the commotion.

There they were indeed: the snake-armed crystal warden Rhombulus side-by-side with the Solarian psychopath Mina Loveberry, not in her Aggression Form but still a force to be reckoned with. Dust and sweat stained her fancy turquoise general uniform, and her spiked helmet lay a good several meters away from her. The bloodthirster and the brute stared down another woman and readied to fight again. But someone stood between them: Hekapoo, the Master of Dimensional Transit, her scissor blades lifted in defense as the flame above her blood red hair blazed with fury.

"Are you guys crazy?! A flipping dinner with the Archduke isn't gonna destroy the kingdom!" she scolded ferociously.

He tried not to pay any mind to their conversation. It mattered little what they spoke about; only that their eyes were off him with no reason to look otherwise. He just needed an opening. Making sure their eyes weren't anywhere near his position, Jester inched his way to the staircase and climbed over the railing. He hung for a moment, stilled himself, then dropped down, careful to soften his landing and reduce the noise. There he made the staircase his cover and waited for his next opportunity. And there, so close to the shadows in which he hid, was _him_.

_Lekmet_.

Jester's mind went blank, devoid of thought or memory, left only with the intoxicating urge to grab the old goat by his horns and wrap his claws around his fragile furry throat. Jester instead closed his eyes in frustration, understanding the obvious, more important task at hand. He slumped deeper into the shadows, no chance to ask, only to wonder:

_Where is she? What did you do with my daughter?_

"I don't need this. When you're ready to speak to me without throwing a conniption fit, you know where the salt stone is."

Her voice rang out above the others, and Jester followed it to the other woman, petite and rosy-cheeked, whose voice and stature commanded more confidence and power than her small frame let on. She wore a baking apron over a simple pink dress, scuffed and torn from the struggle.

She pointed a finger at Hekapoo. "And don't think _you're_ out of the frying pan, either."

"Believe me, I'm not taking _that_-" Hekapoo jabbed a thumb in the direction of Rhombulus and Mina. "-sitting down. We never meant for it to go this far. We're just trying to council you."

"Well!" The woman threw her hands up and spread them out, beckoning to the entire room. "_We're_ not in the council room, _you're_ not counseling, and even if you were, _I'm_ not listening. You know why?"

"Because you're the qu-"

"Because I'm the queen, yes." She threw a smug grin, lips pursed in bitter frustration.

Jester covered his mouth. _Queen?!_

She walked off to the side, to a point not so far from where Mina's helmet had landed, and picked something up. Sure enough, there it was: the Queen's Crown, weighted in gold and embellished with a brilliant violet moonglow diamond. The crown was customized to each queen's personal choices across the eras, but always had the same diamond and remained instantly recognizable throughout the kingdoms. The woman smoothed her loosened hair back and placed the crown on her head.

_But then... how long have I been asleep?!_

He kept still, and took another, closer look at this woman. Who was she? Festivia's daughter? Granddaughter? Where was Festivia then? Where was the scroll? Did she still have it, by some miracle?

Jester found himself fixating on and memorizing the woman's features; her curly lavender hair slipping out of her bun in random spots, the indigo butterflies with both wings spread flat across her cheeks, saturated brightly against her warm olive skin. No, not butterflies. He peered closer, and could better see the curvature of the wings. They were moths: in fact, the resemblance to the little dough moths the Pie Folk use to decorate their pastries was uncanny. The moths, the baking apron, the kerchief she used to tie her bun up, and even the abrasive way she spoke when losing her patience; Jester could already see the Pie Island blood shining through her royal facade.

The woman pivoted a 180 on her heel and marched away, pulling out a pair of brilliant clear crystal scissors and slicing a portal through the air. Her back was turned on them, and so too on Jester. He leaned forward, ready to strike at the opportune moment. That portal wouldn't stay open long; he'd have only a few moments to react.

"You can't solve every problem with pie, you know!" Rhombulus yelled at her back.

Hekapoo forced him backward, snapped her fingers, and scolded, "You. Time-out chair! _Now_!"

He turned away, huffing about this was _his_ turf, him and Comet's backs toward each other as she walked through the portal and Hekapoo quick to follow suit. She pointed her finger next at Mina.

"And _you_...," the scissor forger threatened with a white hot glare. "Next time you even _look_ at the queen wrong, you'll answer to _me personally."_

Mina huffed with indignation and whipped her head away.

_Now!_

All their backs were turned at once and the space between them was wide open. With the portal closing fast, Jester darted. He cleared the space with long strides and light steps and leapt through the portal. An ethereal sound of air whirring and closing behind him buzzed an instant later.

He found himself in an elegant, very familiar-looking hallway, and in reaction to the woman's left side flinching he immediately took shelter in the nearest alcove in the wall. He peered around a moment for one last look at the queen, who had not been turning toward him like he'd thought, but instead slammed the side of her fist against the wall. She then stormed off, muttering loudly.

"Honestly, I give myself one day off out of the week, and it's spent entertaining _those_ losers..."

The lone Monster watched the, apparently new, "Queen Butterfly" in curiosity, then turned back around himself. He knew exactly where he was now. How could he not? He'd been there as a teenager more times than he could count, and again just last night.

_Or, _was_ it just last night?_

However much time had passed, so little had changed; of course it never changed, being _Mewnian_ royalty and all. He only hoped everything stayed the same long enough for him to remember his bearings. To navigate, escape, and, hopefully, find _her_.

* * *

Jester marched down the hall at a brisk pace, trying to keep his footsteps as light as possible; an easy feat as long as he kept to the soft rugs in the center. He hoped memory served him well and headed towards what he assumed was the nearest secret tunnel entrance. A familiar series of colored lights shone softly around the corner, and he turned to see the enormous stained glass wall he once adored. Though the last time he'd been there, it portrayed a moonlit field of glowing butterflies. Now, it was a winged blue unicorn centered inside a seven-pointed star.

_Don't get distracted._

He turned a few more corners, then froze at the sight of a familiar door. This, he definitely remembered. Behind it lay the stairs down to the Tapestry Room which he'd visited only a day ago. At least... it felt like a day ago, yet at the same time it didn't. The thought urged him, and he strongly considered it best to go down and find out just how many generations, if any, have passed since his crystallization. But he shook his head. Curious as he was, escape was more important. He could find out the year and era later.

Footsteps clicked around a corner, keeping close to the wall instead of the rug, and Jester muffled his sharp gasp. He had only a few seconds to act.

_Okay! Maybe I _can_ go find out..._

He swung open the door and shut it behind him with all his strength, stopping it just millimeters before it could slam, and carefully inching it the rest of the way closed. Scaling down the stairs and stopping just short of the next tall stone door, he froze. The tremors began again, pumps of adrenaline he tried desperately to suppress with deep breathing. Inhale, hold, exhale.

He just needed to take a moment to brea-

_Don't get distracted._

He already had the adrenaline. He might as well go with it. Whatever he was bound to find was fated; unable to change, useless to be afraid of. He huffed and forced the right door inward, separating its clover and spade adornments from the heart and diamond on the left door, and stepped inside.

And there they hung across the wall: the ancestral tapestries. Each depiction of each queen so mysterious; some more simple than others, yet all so telling. A thousand different stories lay behind them, each one no doubt blood-soaked in some form or another. Jester looked in chronological order, starting from the tapestry closest to him; the only one to survive the "Lyric's Folly" fire, though barely. He counted:

Lyric the Orderly, in all her cleanliness and all the water she purified.

Skywynne the Queen of Hours, surrounded by winds of change and threads of time.

Jushtin the Uncalculated, content in his pages of equations and crowds of loving friends.

Sola-

_"She danced around their corpses, __Eclipsa__!"_

Jester cringed his head away, thoughtlessly rubbing the scar on his temple. He continued onto Eclipsa the Queen of Darkness, safe in the arms of her loving, giant Monster husband.

A sigh of pity and two steps later, he stopped in front of the first tapestry he didn't recognize.

Festivia...the Fun?

He placed a hand gently on the fabric.

_She did it. She became queen. _

There she was, the wand taking the shape of a golden goblet, laughing heartily while her adoring subjects celebrated and presented bowls of corn and grapes, flaunting the same toga-style clothes so popular on Pie Island. It seemed her most striking feature, the jovial and entertaining personality Jester had cherished so much, is what history remembered most about her as well.

"Hello, sweetie..." his voice quivered.

Now what? He stepped away and inched forward through the dimly lit hall. Torches on the wall continued to light the path, illuminating the next tapestries. Side by side, the first one much smaller than the second. Siblings, most likely, just as Jushtin and Solaria. Through the glow of the flickering torch light stood out a pair of brown eyes accentuated by dark heavy bags much like his own. A tired looking brunette with shade moons on her cheeks, covered in robes and surrounded by orbs and balls of all sizes and forms, contrasted the cheerful demeanor of the tapestry before her.

Dirhhennia the Heaped.

And beside her, the sister's tapestry radiated joy and peace like their mother. A blonde ballerina with rabbits on her cheeks, dancing gracefully into the night while Avarians and Septarians alike kneeled before her.

Crescenta the Eager.

Neither of these women were the one from the Crystal Room. But surely hers was next, right?

Jester walked. Rhina the Riddled, among a labyrinth of Escherian stairwells winding in infinite loops and circles. Her, _red _hair and _infinity symbols_ on her cheeks.

_No. Next?_

Celena the Shy, a fan held meekly to her mouth as anticipating subjects gathered outside her door and crowded her stairs. Her pale rose hair was similar, but her ghost white skin and crescent moon marks betrayed her.

_Come on!_

Estrella the Drafted, sitting among a field of gladiolas and used sketchbooks. Bright gold flower marks stood out against familiar dark skin. Though her hair was even darker, almost black.

_This can't be..._

His steps had grown slower, more uneven, more sloppy, until at last he stood before the next familiar face. The lavender hair, the brown skin, the moth marks.

Comet the Chef. A table of delicious baked pastries spread out before her. And a toddler, whose blue eyes and diamond cheek marks bore an eerie resemblance to Festivia, placed her chin and hands eagerly on the table beside her.

_This can't be happening. She already has a tapestry made, already has a child! She must've been queen for a long time by now._

How many generations was this? He counted down from Festivia the Fun. Excluding the heaped one, and including the toddler, Festivia had _six __successors_! Jester staggered back, clenching his stomach tight as he hung his head in horror, averting his gaze from the tapestries looming over him. Mocking him. What year was it? What era? How long had it been?

_Too long. Too long, that's all that matters._

_Gone._

She was gone. No, she'd already been "gone" once before. "Dead" was the word he was looking for.

_Dead._

_My daughter._

_Is dead._

The word danced around his mind with the subtlety of an offbeat waltz, a dark, obvious, inescapable dance that froze his blood with every wrong step. He grasped for a different pattern, any reason at all, any logic that might bring some comfort before his mind could scatter.

_Even if she wasn't, it's not like she'd remember me anyway__. Not after..._

His eyes widened. The memory came crashing down on him.

_...__Lekmet__._

He inhaled sharply. Lekmet, the Supreme High Chancellor, had been there again. _R__ight there_ in the Crystal Room. Close enough to touch. Jester wished he'd wrung the old man's neck when he'd had the chance. The Chancellor... no, not just the Chancellor. Not just the Commission. Their oh-so-_beloved_ magic had taken his child from him _twice_! Just like it took his sleep. Like it took his parents. Like it took Juno.

And now, as he gaped back and forth down the hall of true and false monarchs, he could see the magic had finally tainted _her bloodline_. The lone Septarian clenched Festivia's piece, arms trembling once more. His nostrils flared through heavy breaths, growing heavier. His heart pounded in his chest. And as he looked at the goblet...

That damned magic wand...

_SLASH!_

His claws sliced through the threads of the wand. He grinded his teeth and swiped again. And again. And again. Until his nails ached, until his fingers burned, until there was nothing left of it in that tapestry. And in Crescenta's. And Skywynne's. And Jushtin's. And Solaria's. And... no. His hands came to a stop at Eclipsa's. As his blood boiled, as his shoulders heaved up and down struggling for air, he drew a hand back. Then forward. Then back again.

"You could've stopped this!" he growled, then exhaled, leaning against the image of his best friends.

_You said you'd come back for me. I needed you._

Sweat gathered at his hairline. He put a palm to his forehead, lifting navy blue bangs from his face, catching his breath from the brink of exhaustion. No, not exhaustion. He'd barely done anything. He wasn't tired from this ordeal in the slightest, but he was horrified. He hated being powerless to change anything, being unsure what to do next. He hated being made a joke of.

Wailing. Screeching.

Singing?

He finally noticed that song in his head had grown louder, almost surrounding him. Jester turned his head to catch a glimpse of... was it the wand? He gasped, swerving around to lift his eyes to the woman from the Crystal Room. The new queen. Comet.

The questioning gaze of her violet eyes focused intensely on him, and he glared daggers back. They both tensed back in hesitation, each rearing to strike. She lifted an eyebrow, then a finger, opening her mouth to speak. But Jester leapt past her and sprinted back toward the door. Though his feet had only met the ground twice before-

"Levitato!"

-his body was snatched off the ground and lifted into the air. A glowing lavender mist surrounded him, and suddenly moving his limbs became a strenuous wade through thick molasses.

"Whoa, you are a _fast_ one, aren't you," she exclaimed with fascination.

I'm_ fast? Your reaction was godspeed!_

He'd just barely caught the words before there, in his head, that song began to wail again. He cried out in frustration through the bombardment on his ears.

"Easy there, easy! Hold on just a cherry-picking minute, sweetie."

Her tone mocked him, truly unaware of the real problem at hand. His body was pulled backwards into facing her again, lurching forward with the sudden start and stop.

He could hardly make out the sound of her voice through the keening song, louder in his mind than ever before and raising in volume with every millisecond he drew closer to the wand. Though a futile gesture, he covered his ears in a desperate reflex to block out the voices. Eyes squeezed shut, head jerking side to side, straining against the cacophony of different tones and voices, and still through it all the woman called to get his attention. Jester would do anything to make it all stop.

Her voice sang slightly above the others, breaking through to his ears from the comforts of reality. Barely above a muffled whisper: "I-...just...simple...-ation spell...-sn't bite."

"Put me down!" he yelled, desperate to be heard by the woman as well as through his own muted ears.

"Promise to be good?"

He swore he could hear the smirk in her voice. Still, at least he could focus on it a little more clearly. With a groan, he nodded meekly.

"Cross your heart and put sprinkles on top?"

"_Please, your Majesty!" _he cried out even louder._ "__I'm not in the mood for games_!"

The silence, though brief, gnawed at him. He'd much rather hear from her than from those unicorns another second. He wished he could open his eyes to read her face, but in this close proximity to the wand and with its magic fully casted their call was deafening and painful, threatening to force him unconscious. Finally, though, the spell faltered.

"...Alright."

Jester's feet gently touched the ground again. The call faded back to its normal volume; still persistent, still whispering, still perpetual. But bearable now.

Finally he had confirmation. The same thing had happened to him the last time he ever saw Eclipsa. It seemed Jester would always react in such a way whenever the royal wand was used near him. But how? The Omatidia Eyes, the call drowning out everything else, it all only happened when he was near a well of magic. Could the wand itself be a portal? He doubted it could mean anything else, for always in its vicinity the call would grow louder and louder, and always when in use would the visions flash and the voices drill relentlessly.

He could never shake them free, but he shook his head anyway, daring to open his eyes. Even on his feet, he towered a full foot over the queen's petite 5'0" figure, though she stood straight with the self-certainty of giant. But her cocky smile had faded into something a little softer and more worrisome.

"Well. I've never seen Levitato do _that_ before," she said, though with a smidge of pity, mostly full of curiosity.

"It's not your sp-" He stopped himself, unsure of how much to tell her, especially when he himself hadn't quite figured it out still. But mostly he wanted to keep from snapping. Arms crossed, he huffed, "It's not your business anyway."

"Hm, certainly _feels_ my business. My castle, my wand, my tapestries," she declared with a knowing point toward the damage he'd done.

He squinted. _Yes__. You _would_ think that._

She continued, "You know, I came down here expecting to find some crazed Monster raging about my Tapestry Room. And instead I found...well, _basically_ the same thing, except sadder? And more dapper."

"Okaaaay?" He returned the contemplative gaze she looked him up and down with.

"You know, you seem reasonable. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. Just..." She inhaled, and in an exaggerated motion lifted her hand into the hair and swung it forward to gesture toward the holes in the tapestries. "...why, though?"

Jester snorted. What answer did he possibly owe this woman, if any? And...why couldn't he think of one? Not even a little white lie at the top of his head? Where was his tact when he needed it?

He glanced toward Festivia's picture, and softened his shoulders in regret upon seeing the hole he made. All the adrenaline had already left, leaving only a sinking a feeling and a few his remaining senses. Why _had_ he done that? Even if he decided he hated the wand, had he not promised to support her no matter what she chose? This image was hers. This _place_ was hers. Why would he ever want to ruin it?

"I...don't know."

Comet lifted an eyebrow. "Mm hm. And..." She took a few more steps toward him, and he straightened as she delicately picked a shiny speck of crystal off the ripped, blood-soaked sleeve of his black trench coat. "...what are you doing here? Besides escaping the Crystal Room, of course."

He was long tired of this. "I don't know."

She crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one hip. "Is there anything you do know?"

_"I don't...!" _Jester caught himself in the middle of lurching forward, fists clenched. He whipped around to face the wall of tapestries. "Ugh! I don't even know what year it is, much less what I'm doing here!"

"Oh," she said, switching back to cheerful on a whim. "You just wanted to find out how long you've been crystallized! You didn't have to ruin my property to do that."

"I never meant to," he pleaded. "All I want to do is get away from here. But I have no idea where to go or what to do next, I don't know anything! I'm lost, and confused, and helpless..."

Half a toothy grin cracked across his face. "Oh, but _that's_ nothing new, though, is it?"

A snicker escaped him, growing in volume until he was hunched over cackling, and the cackling grew uneven and lowered back in volume once it faded into soft crying. He covered his mouth, failing miserably to keep his face and quaking shoulders still as tears dropped onto his hand.

The queen's optimism had faded entirely. An awkward tension hung in the air as she tried to decide whether the Monster before her was as dangerous as he was unhinged. But despite the torn fabric and the cleaved crystal shards, she felt no danger from him. Only sadness. A deep, dark, suffocating anguish. She lifted a hand slowly and cautiously toward him.

"Are you alright?"

He sniffed and straightened once again, wiping the corners of his eyes. He kept his gaze away from the queen, though.

"I just...I had a daughter." He threw another pitiful glance up at the tapestries before hanging his head again. "I'm never going to see her again."

"Oh, sure you will," Comet tsked. "How long's it been? Two, three hundred years? I'm sure that's nothing to a lizard-"

"_You don't understand_!" He snapped. Inhaling sharply, he pinched the bridge of his nose and steadied himself again. "She was adopted, she... she wasn't a lizard."

Silence from Comet again. Though this time not even her breathing or shuffling rang through the background noise. Normally he'd find it unsettling. Normally, he'd never in a million years turn his back toward a queen of Mewni.

But what was the point of caution now? What did he have left to fight for? A child he'd never see again? Escape routes and safe havens he'd have to return to alone now? A scroll that contained all the secrets they needed, only to be ripped from them? Why this charade of self preservation? Where did he have left to go, besides back in a crystal?

"I see..."

Her words sounded uncertain, felt empty and weak against the fuzz clouding his mind. But then he felt a hand on his shoulder, and the queen's forehead rested gently against his back.

"I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what you must be going through."

He shuddered, eyes hot and blurry again for a moment.

_Don't do this. Not here. Not in front of her. Just take this away from me already._

"Did she have any family, perhaps?" she asked hopefully.

Jester didn't respond.

_Yes..._

He slowly reached his hand up to touch hers, but stopped. Her gloved fingers surely felt nothing like his child's warm, tiny hands. They could never; they would never.

"Some descendants? Maybe they're still around, somewhere?"

_Please. Just stop._

Off-put by the silence, Comet slipped her hand away and took a half step back. She fidgeted a moment, then sighed.

"Alright. You don't have to talk about it. You can just...walk with me instead?"

Jester scowled. He turned his head ever so slightly to look at her. "Don't you have anyone better to entertain?"

"Nope. Certainly not-" Comet groaned. "-them." She contemplated for a moment, a finger to her chin. "Speaking of them, I'm sure Rhombulus hardly ever counts his crystals." She shrugged in a very purposeful and theatrical manner. "And this castle is just so big, I'm sure I wouldn't notice if one little Monster had escaped into it. Or if the little bear cub who rummages through my trash managed to get inside and tear up my tapestries."

"Hm?" Jester turned back towards her and raised an eyebrow. "You're not planning to turn me in?"

"Normally I would." She rubbed the back of her head. "But, yikes. You just outlived your own family. Whatever you did, I'm sure you've been punished enough."

He was hesitant. What could he possibly expect from a queen of Mewni? Then again, what more did he have to lose? He took a single step toward her. She had her hand reaching out to him; he didn't take it, but he stood by her side as she beckoned him to follow.

"Walk with you? Where?"

"The kitchen. I know just the thing to lift your spirit; there's nothing quite like a fresh homemade pie to dry your tears!" She wiggled her fingers excitedly through the air as if to cast a spell.

She twirled on her feet, her body light as feather as they ascended back up the stairs. Jester looked down at the source of a familiar series of obnoxious clicks: Comet's soft thick-heeled pumps, complete with fancy shoe clips shaped like bows.

High heels. How had he not heard her coming down the stairs in the first place?

Regardless, they kept the roughly the same stride together. Though her airy, bouncy demeanor kept her just a few pages ahead of him at all times. He felt heavy, no more heart to match her speed, and by the time they reached the top of the stairs his footsteps fell irregular. As she opened the door back up to the hallway they almost bumped into each other by the awkward pace and lack of room. Her hand briefly fell upon the outer pocket of Jester's trench coat, almost knocking a pouch out of it. He quickly grabbed at it and kept it from falling, haphazardly keeping it out of sight.

She looked back at his torn sleeve instead. "Oh, and perhaps remind me to stop by the laundry room; get your coat all fixed up. How's that sound, uh..."

She stopped in her tracks, thinking for a moment.

"What was your name again?"

'_Again_', as if she'd asked him before. She hadn't.

"Je-" The lone Septarian silenced himself, not so much out of a rekindled purpose for caution as, rather, a tugging on his heart strings. His fingers still clutched the pouch: the simple bag of toffee bits _she_ loved to eat and bake with so much. It finally dawned on him that he'd never get to hear her call him that silly nickname again ... as did he realize he'd never confessed that he secretly adored it. Now, how could he just go on being "Jester Cross" as if nothing had changed?

"...Toffee."

He tucked it back deeper into the pocket, and for good measure he refastened the button, which had either been undone during the last few scuffles or never done at all in his haste to escape with her. He briefly noticed an extra weight on the other side of his coat he could have sworn hadn't been there before. Making note of it wasn't the first thing on his mind; his eyes shifted back to the queen, who had turned to regard him with a raised eyebrow, perhaps expecting a better answer.

"That's... what my daughter called me," he responded, almost bashfully.

Comet put her hands to her mouth, stifling a squeal. "Oh. That's just ... adorable!" she gushed. "Well, if that's what makes you feel better, I'm happy to go with it."

He was surprised, not just that she'd accepted it with compassion instead of a fuss or a jest, but that he himself was so relieved to be addressed as such. Especially by someone other than _her_. The queen of Mewni strut forward again, swaying side to side. And Toffee, the lone Septarian, happily kept pace with her.

* * *

_*Song: Raven's Opening_

_Musical: Uncle Raven's Super Happy Funtime Carnival*_


	3. Era of the Comet A Scroll and A Promise

**_Era of the Comet; A Scroll and A Promise_**

_*I won't look too far ahead_

_It's too much for me to take_

_But break it down to this next breath_

_This next step, this next choice_

_Is one that I can make*_

* * *

_It always started with a drink._

_Such was a regular thing for children who grew up in the aftermath of the Massacre. Jester Cross was no exception. One day, having caught him slumped over in a depressive state, Seth had introduced him to the wonders of alcohol. Like many in his generation, Jester had discovered the magical properties of liquor that drowned out the sounds of screams and clashing steel, or the rolled dragon ash that could numb the taste of blood in their mouths, or the warmth of both which seemed to overpower the __aftertouch__ of wildfire. And like many in his generation, he need not explain it to anyone._

_Not even to the prince of __Dark'niss__, dense as he was. It wasn't that __Globgor__ never noticed the misery and depression around him, but rather he had a hard time understanding why. A unique kind of youth who could move past loss and grief, who talked about his sorrows instead of drowning them, he never could stop pitying or questioning Jester and his bottles. Nevertheless, he was always there to offer his comfort and companionship. _

_Especially tonight, as he suggested Jester at least drink in a crowd of fun-loving friends who could lift him up while holding him accountable. Jester had gotten into a fight with Seth earlier that night and wasn't eager to go home, so with nothing better to do he followed his hulking red giant of a friend to a military trench left abandoned after the Massacre. __Globgor__ grabbed the handle of the bunker door and-_

_SLAM!_

"Kitchen's mine now, folks! Whatever you got boiling, let it simmer! Whatever you got in the oven, leave it to me! Just clear the way for me and my lizard friend; thanks, lovelies!" Queen Comet's voice rang throughout the royal kitchen, pulling Toffee away from simpler days with other friends.

Chefs and butlers scrambled out of her way surprisingly quickly, in a bit of distress but clearly used to having to do this on a whim. Many made sure to keep an absurd distance from the only Monster in the room, and Toffee blushed at having been made the center of attention in the first place. Whispers, grumbles, rumors, and the few profanities aside, Comet grinned ear to ear and closed the doors back, secluding the royal kitchen all to themselves now.

"Very important question, Toffee. Life or death, in fact: Do you like to bake?"

Toffee's ears perked up. The man could drink, party, and shatter kneecaps with a straight face, but somehow the allure of an oven and a rolling pin made him too giddy to suppress.

"I _love_ to bake," he responded, eyes wide, barely able to contain his excitement.

Comet beamed to match his, and clapped her hands together. "Excellent! Looks like we're baking partners today." She grabbed him by the arm and led him forward.

Toffee thought he heard sounds of shouting in the distance but paid no mind. He followed Comet to a pantry, and she threw him a fresh white linen shirt to replace his bloody trench coat and sweater. They'd made a stop by the laundry room to get them fixed, and though he wasn't fond of parting with his trench coat for while, Comet heavily insisted he trust them with their safety.

"It's only temporary, dear. Lockwhim and Lavabo will have your clothes cleaned and sewed in no time."

So he agreed- under the condition that the pouch of candy stay with him.

Toffee paced around the kitchen, feasting his eyes on machines he'd never expected the Mewmans to have in their lifetimes, and even some he didn't recognize at all. Curiously he picked up a blender- much more polished and with more settings and attachments than he'd last seen one -and checked the bottom. _Made in __Septarsis__. _Odd. Since when would Septarsis have ever shared their technology with Mewmans? A few Monster nations maybe, but never with the same people who ironically would always call the Septarians primitive and beastly.

"Oh that's a-"

He snapped his head toward Comet's voice and narrowed his eyes. She read his glare and ate her words, carrying on with her business. Toffee inspected the sink and fiddled with the faucet. Sure enough, water came pouring out of the tap.

"Running water? Since when?" he asked incredulously.

"Since I was born, I suppose."

He cocked his head, but decided he probably wouldn't get a better answer than that. She put on her apron and tossed him his own as he stared at the faucet. By reflex he began to wash his hands before touching anything.

Comet's voice rang out as she walked toward the sink, "Never forget the most important thing to do before cooking-"

Toffee simply let the water run and stared at her again.

"Oh," she said. "Yes. That'd be it."

"What do you think I am? A savage?"

She smirked and playfully bumped him out of the way so she could wash her own hands.

"A Monster who loves to bake," she exclaimed, seemingly talking half to him and half to air. "It's been ages since I met one. Oh, wait 'til I tell my Moon!"

_Moon. So that's the girl's name._

Comet looked across the kitchen at a portrait of her and her daughter above the oven. Snuggled in her arms was an older version of the toddler he'd seen in the tapestry; a teenager in a simple pink dress and white apron identical to her mother, with long icy blue hair and those same striking diamonds on her cheeks. Though it was easier to tell the diamonds were slightly different; straight-edged unlike Festivia's curved sparkles, and with a little more pink to their hue.

"You know, it's been ages since she baked with me," she sighed. "She's my one and only girl, you know. She's practically an adult now, finally coming out of her shell. I'm glad, but I'm always afraid we'll drift apart. It's gotten so lonely in the kitchen without her."

Toffee sighed. "I know how you feel."

A high-pitched melody stopped his thoughts before they began. He looked over to see Comet fiddling with her wand, which he now realized was an elaborately bedazzled rolling pin. And was that Baker's Quartz?

"Well, maybe this will bring us closer together. Tomorrow."

_Tomorrow? _Toffee wanted to ask, but the crystals on her wand started to glow. He high-tailed it across the room before that song could overwhelm his senses. It was loud, driving into his skull with the force of a steel bat, but bearable. He half expected Comet to levitate him back over to her by force, but she simply stared in confusion.

"What's wrong? Aren't we going to do this together?"

"Sure." He flashed an obviously fake smile at her. "Once you're done with whatever you're doing."

She rubbed the back of her head. "If you're worried about it being called a Monster-bashing club, that's only a little Mewman joke. It really is just a rolling pin."

"Mm hm." Toffee shifted uncomfortably. "I'll just stay over here where I can hear myself think."

"Oh?" She cocked her head. "Oh! Ohhhh... that's right," she realized, putting a hand to her mouth as she remembered their scuffle in the Tapestry Room.

She sheathed her wand. Then she cracked her knuckles and twiddled her fingers up and down as if playing a piano. Toffee knew what she was about to do. He wanted to stop her, but cabinet doors were already slowly opening without a force to act on them.

"Then it's as good a time as any to practice!"

"Uh, your Majesty-"

_THUMP_

A bag of flour fell onto the counter, making a mess all over the cutting board and the floor before blowing into the air in a puff. Comet's hand movements, once graceful, turned shaky and erratic. She held her arm closer to herself and closed her trembling fingers nearly into a fist. In response, an oven door flew open, and sugars and spices twirled several times in the air before clattering back down and spilling. Comet's shoulders slumped, defeated.

Toffee chimed in, "Or maybe just not use magic?"

She frowned at first, then agreed. "Oh, of course. I should've known. You'd be all left out if I simply used magic."

Toffee didn't conceal his eye roll, but she continued anyway, a grin back on her face. She put her hands to her hips.

"Well, at least the surface is already floured for us, see? Don't worry, Toffee. It'll just be us and our hands against the world here! Trust me, we'll have oodles of fun!"

* * *

The queen turned out to be a master at baking. Everyone Toffee had ever cooked with were amateurs: Seth only knew the basics of how to feed a family of two, Juno had learned the craft right alongside him, and Festivia was an empty cup "oohing" and "aahing" at all the delicious knowledge he could fill her with. But this woman? She wasn't just skilled at it; she was a professional. Toffee himself was skilled, but was still only a home chef and uncertified. He wondered how she could possibly have found so much time to dedicate to her craft.

He wasn't used to having so much to learn from someone, especially from a Mewman.

But he watched and nodded intently at the fancy spices she mixed together for the filling, or techniques she used to core her apples or mix her dry ingredients. They exchanged pleasantries and shared cooking methods, like how he mixed rum into his crust for a flakier crust, or how she mixed cold butter into her crust ingredients while he preferred warming it to a cream just enough to evenly distribute it all, or how she preferred baking at a higher temperature. He even laughed for a moment. Laughed at all the weird names Mewmans had for ingredients. Ovules or eggs? Pig-goat fat or butter? Smile sand or sugar? At least they both thought it was adorable.

Comet reached for his crust with a cloth to wrap it up in.

_Oh. Right._

"Chilling it? How long do _you_ usually do it for?"

"A few hours, at least?"

"With all due respect," he frowned. "I'd rather not stay here for hours. I'm still technically a wanted man, remember?"

Comet continued to wrap up his crust then turned to hers. "Well, we have to finish it together somehow. And today."

"I'd sooner just let you use magic to speed things up."

"Now? If you say so," she shrugged.

She ever so slightly rolled her wand across the surface of her crust, sending out a poof of frost at the end. She did the same with Toffee's crust, and thus hours worth of chilling was achieved in a single minute with none of the ill effects of super-cooling. They were ready to press the bottom crust into the pan.

Meanwhile Toffee was working on the top crust. "Ooh, are you an artist?" she asked as he cut it into of a series of flower petals.

"I used to be an apprentice to a blacksmith. I dabble in crafting every now and then."

"That's so lovely," she exclaimed, reaching into a pantry full of her own pre-made concoctions of pie fillings in jars. "Now I'm feeling _apple_ pie today. Which would you like: Bonfire or Firebomb?"

Bonfire apples were soaked in rum, sugar, and delicious spices to give pie a warm, toast flavor. Firebomb apples were soaked in blood from a dragon's throat; a delicacy among nobles that Toffee had only eaten twice in his life. Any normal day he'd kill for dragon's throat blood, but on days like this:

"Bonfire. _Please_."

"Seems to me like you could use the whole bottle."

She indeed brought out a bottle of rum along with the jar of apple slices, and set the jar aside while putting the bottle into a basket. Once they got their apple filling into the pan, Comet gingerly put the top crust onto it. She brushed it with an egg wash while Toffee sprinkled cinnamon and sugar on it. He was about to put it on the over when he stopped him.

"Ope, one more thing!"

She reached for the remaining scraps of the crust he prepared and fashioned them into a cute little design. "Can't forget my signature butterfly," she said as she stuck it on the top.

Toffee peered at her butterfly a little more. Just like her cheek marks, something was slightly off about the curvature of the wings.

"That's a moth," he pointed out. "Your cheek marks are moths too, yes?"

"Family secret!" She shushed him with a finger to her mouth. "If you told anyone, I'd have to kill ya'." She winked. Then she asked, "Speaking of little secrets, could you hand me those scraps you had leftover?"

Toffee handed her the scraps from his crust, while she reached into the cupboard and pulled out a little packaged cup of chocolate pudding. She stuck the scraps into the pudding, garnishing it like fruit on a fancy drink. Then she picked it up and kissed the rim of the cup, leaving a puckered lipstick stain behind.

"I like to leave the scraps for my sweet Glossaryck," she said as she laid it down on a windowsill, not noticing the flare in Toffee's nostrils at the sheer mention of his name.

Then their focus went back to the pie. Together they picked up their masterpiece and smiled at each other. They caught each others' gaze, Toffee's amber eyes sullen and tired, Comet's cheerful eyes a deep blue-violet resembling Festivia's hair. They even shared the same slightly aquiline nose. Toffee was suddenly far away, short of breath with anxiously skipping heart beats. His smile faded into a grimace, and he could barely hold onto the pie anymore.

"Easy, now. I've got it!" Comet took the full weight before his grip slipped, her smile still etched onto her face like a pristine porcelain doll. She closed her eyes and inhaled, and now her body now seemed to move and float of its own accord, dancing slowly around the room with the pie twirling in the air behind and around her. Comet made her way to the oven, the pie dancing alongside her, all the while humming a tune:

"_Over and under_

_Wherever you roam_

_Sweet little __Mewni__ rabbit_

_Come back home"_

Toffee grabbed a fistful of his shirt. _Come back home._ He shifted his eyes away from her, then turned and headed for the door. Comet noticed and bounded after him. She put a hand to his shoulder and stopped him.

"Everything alright? I didn't mean to leave you out like that."

He brushed her hand away. "I don't _want_ to be included in your magic. I don't even want to _think_ about it, okay?"

Comet drew her hand back slowly. "Are...you sure?"

"This isn't about your magic." Only partly a lie.

"Is it _her?_"

Her. And the magic she was to inherit. That she never should have.

"It was ... the night before her 14th birthday."

"Old enough to wield a wand," Comet sighed.

Toffee nodded solemnly.

"So's mine. Tomorrow, the wand goes to her."

_Midnight. Again._

Toffee turned to see her fiddling with her wand again, that sound creeping further all over his senses. As if it wasn't antagonizing enough, his head and heart ached with sounds from the previous night.

_How am I gonna get out of this? - She belongs with me! - Once midnight comes, it'll be mine. - __I'll always be here. Magic or no magic. - You can't do this!_

"That's..."

_I__'ll stay in chains a bit longer_

_For you, my dear child_

Toffee clenched his forehead.

_That dumb song. That dumb wand_.

"...great." he huffed, and turned on his heel to stomp away.

"Toffee!" Comet called.

She walked after him. Turning a corner, the hall became engulfed in colors. Once again the stained glass window loomed over him. He stopped and stared up at it. A unicorn.

_Did she dance, too?_

_No, but she could sing. Had a voice like a unicorn. She even spoke their language._

"Don't walk away from me." The queen caught up to him, carrying that song with her. She put her hands to her heart. "Please. Let me fix this."

Toffee's eyes squeezed shut. "You can't fix this," he growled. "_This_-" he gestured to her wand -"is what we were trying to run away from."

Comet stared for several seconds. Her eyes shifted back and forth nervously. "I just...I j-" she stammered, her gaze switching between her wand and him. "Where would you even go?"

Toffee stared incredulously. His lips threatened to upturn into a snarl, but he inhaled and turned back to the stained glass. What an arrogant thing for her to say. To think there's no place to escape from her magic. But then, was she wrong? And did she have any control over that fact?

"I'll...I'll go check on your laundry. Then we can talk all about it; I'll have you feeling better somehow. Can I trust you to turn the oven down in a few?"

He nodded. Comet left him alone with his thoughts. He ought to be used to that by now, though. He felt for the pouch of candy in his pocket. What to do with it now? Let it collect dust like everything else? He leaned his forehead against the mural.

Out the window he could see groups of people collected in the distance. Monsters. And shouting? Was that the source of it? He listened closer, and while he couldn't make out any words, or faces for that matter, he recognized the rhythmic and determined shouting for what it really was: a protest.

_Globgor__ and Jester walked into the bunker and feasted their eyes on a place where extroverts and introverts alike could feel at home. Where t__eenagers in this era could escape from the pressures of politics and radical ideals, and the arguments that came with. The rowdy, the pacifistic, the cold-blooded, and the sympathetic mingled in groups without a care in the world, their trauma their only common enemy. Parties like this, ones that fashioned war relics into rave spaces and executioner blocks into entertainment centers is how a __Septarian__ pacifist like Jester and a Size-Shifter brawler like __Globgor__ came to be friends. _

_Neither of them were guiltless; both had their fair share of causing trouble. But while __Globgor__ was straight forward with his temper and his urge to start fights, Jester was more subtle and intellectual, preferring to ruin someone's day with psychological warfare or sabotage in the shadows. The Prince of __Dark'niss__ in all his gold piercings and purposely ripped cloth, and Jester Cross-Bow of Yellow Glade all black clad and covered in leather: always stealing corn shakes, always the first to voice an unpopular opinion at family gatherings, always butting heads with other cliques. _

_Parties like this were the biggest protest of all. Young Monsters had stolen a war trench for themselves and turned it into a fun symbol of anarchy and escapism. Then, to raise funds to help other Monsters in need, they set up a bonfire- much like one the Nightmare Queen used to dance around the corpses of their people -and danced around it themselves._

How long had it been since Toffee mingled with other Monsters? He'd been on Pie Island for so many years. Maybe it was time to go back to his roots.

The aroma of grapes and parchment filled his nose. Toffee found his trench coat and red sweater being shoved into his arms. Strange ... it was heavier than he thought. Comet's soft white gloves held his hands for a moment, then gently refolded the clothes into them. She inhaled, noticing the delightful smell shortly after he did.

"Lavabo is a clothes-washing prodigy," she said, grabbing the sides of her baby pink dress and swaying it around. "He believes the most important thing to any good wardrobe is the smell of pleasant memories. And, by goodness, is he onto something!"

Toffee unfolded his coat and held it up to his nose. Little Tivi in her nightgown, her arms wrapped around his waist, her face buried into his sweater. A scent still brand new, yet eons ago. Now made everlasting.

"It still smells like her," he breathed.

"Does it help?"

"Yes." He tried to hide how hard he was clenching the fabric, how close he wanted to hug it to his body. "Thank you, your Majesty."

She beamed a pearly smile at him. "Well, we'd better go check on our pie."

Toffee took off the linen shirt while her back was turned and slipped on his sweater. He could barely tell it'd been ripped in the first place. The same went for his coat. He swung it over his shoulders, noticing that extra weight on one side. He wanted to investigate, but caught one last peek at the crowd outside.

"Septarsis," he said.

"Hm?"

He started to follow. "We were planning to run away to Septarsis."

"Do you ... have anyone there still waiting for you?"

He cringed, but kept walking, catching up to her side. "There is one. But it's been ages since I spoke with him, and we didn't part on the best of terms: Seth Cutlass. He's sort of my-"

"Oh, I know who that is!" Comet rang out.

Toffee was taken aback. "You do?"

"Of course! I can give him a call right now! Trust me, we'll have you a ride back to Septarsis by the time the pie's done."

She grabbed him by the wrist and rushed him down the opposite corner. They were headed towards the throne room, if memory served well. A stone hard pit of anxiety formed in his gut. He prayed she knew what she was doing, but still:

"Don't tell him anything important, all right? Just say you have a message from the Cross-Bow family I'll only deliver personally. He'll know what it means."

So, behind a door to a room full of ornate crystal-embedded calling mirrors, Comet made her call. "Toffee, dear, would you go check on the pie while we talk?" she asked before she pressed the button.

"Of ... course."

He walked away. He wasn't sure how to feel about being left out of the conversation, whether it was good that Seth didn't know he was alive, or bad that he might say something incriminating about him. Just before getting out of earshot, he heard the order.

"Call Lord Seth."

"Calling Lord Seth," it replied.

_Lord?!_

Toffee wanted so badly to eavesdrop on this new information, but quickly changed his mind upon remembering how he'd been found in the Tapestry Room. He doubted he could sneak up on Comet. Best to play it safe for now. So back to the kitchen he went, turning the oven down to let the pie bake properly.

He looked above the oven where the portrait of the queen and her daughter hung. The major contrasts between Comet and Moon seemed off to him. The blue-eyed preteen was already almost as tall as her mother, who was a solid five feet, and still definitely growing. Her snow white skin stood out vividly next to her mother's golden-brown complexion. And Comet looked a bit too young to be a mother in the first place. A daughter who looked nothing like her mother and whose timeline doesn't add up; at least _that _was a familiar turn of events. Though he didn't want to assume fraud again just yet, and for now resigned to assume that someone else's genes heavily outweighed Comet's. So much for Mewman genes being the most dominant in the universe.

On the wall perpendicular to the oven was the window where Comet left the pie crust scraps. Out the corner of his eye he noticed the window slide up a crack, enough to let in a small animal that immediately began rubbing its hands eagerly. Toffee turned and stared. Not an animal, though the size of a rodent. Dark blue, white beard, wearing robes and a gem embedded in his forehead and belly button. Diamond shaped eyes stared back at Toffee, who immediately clenched his fists. An incredulous magenta gaze met the daggers shooting out of Toffee's own amber eyes.

Glossaryck, the patron god of Mewni, his mouth agape as if amazed that Toffee had returned in flesh and bone. Neither of them spoke. What was there to say? Was the little blue traitor honestly surprised that Toffee couldn't be contained? Was he worried that he'd make good on his promises? Horrified that Festivia had chosen her father instead over her magic, before being lost to him forever? Or would he simply remain complacent? Neutral?

Toffee snarled and stomped away. Back at where he'd left Comet, he could hear the last bits of her conversation.

"Fine," a gruff voice like gravel on granite huffed. Seth. "But only if you pay your dues. You're already behind."

"I thought we agreed that-"

"_I _agreed on nothing! Just give us what we're owed and be thankful I'm doing this one favor for you."

"Fine. But I urge you to reconsider. We'll talk about this tomorrow."

"I'm sure we will." Snarky to the bitter end, he'd always been. Just before Comet hung up, he muttered profanities under his breath just audibly enough to be heard on purpose.

Comet's lips curled into a frown as the call ended. "Useless old cur," she grumbled. Then she caught sight of him. "Oh, there you are! Good news: I've got everything prepared for you."

* * *

So. Seth was Lord of Septarsis, and there was a Butterfly in charge who wasn't repulsed by the company of a Monster. What else had changed? Besides the obvious frauds on the throne? What about the famines? Were they worse or better?

He mulled this over while the pie cooled. Comet took the basket with the rum bottle in it and filled it with pouches of gold and other currencies from different kingdoms, as well as a few sandwiches. Once the pie cooled down, she placed it delicately inside the basket and covered it with a pink checkered cloth. The two of them then headed toward the shipping canal where his ride would wait for him.

_This is beneath the rose tower, isn't it? It has to be, if it's facing the direction of the Monster nations. _

Pink and orange twilight glowed through the tunnel entrance, their footsteps echoing over the soft sound of flowing water. Pine trees rose up in jagged waves over the horizon, towards the mountains that blocked his view of Septarsis and Dark'niss. The shipping canal connected to a river which would take him up the shore around the mountains, and his boat would no doubt move past Yellow Glade to reach its destination. He wondered whether to be saddened or relieved.

Queen Comet embraced him one last time. "I can tell you've gone awhile without a friend," she spoke softly and sweetly. "Both of us, no doubt. I'm sure it'll do you some good to be back among your own kind."

"You're probably right." Toffee paused. "Wait, what's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, you know what I mean."

"I really don't."

Comet chuckled and ignored the subject. She let go and started to walk away.

"I'll go make sure your boat is ready." She strut back into the tunnel, still partly facing him. "Contact me as soon you get there! And let me know if Seth gives you any trouble! Just keep in touch, alright?"

She waved goodbye enthusiastically, a playful bounce in her walk as she put more distance between them. Toffee nodded and waved, giving her one last genuine smile.

_Well, it's nice to see Festivia's descendant has the same ... colorful personality._

Just the thought of her name tugged at his heart, and his smile fell as soon as Comet's back was fully turned. Toffee sat and waited for the carriage to arrive, in his lap a basket full of pie, liquor, and just enough gold to get by. He was grateful, of course, but he couldn't exactly be optimistic knowing this was what he would face the future with after being gone for a century or a few. That was assuming he even had a future; his past was certainly long gone.

Eclipsa was gone, Globgor was gone, Juno was gone, Festivia was gone. He had no idea what became of Pie Island, of his home or his business. And it seemed nothing in the kingdom of Mewni had changed for the better. He had no one to go back to but Seth, and nothing to look forward to but the liquor and junk food in his lap. What a familiar feeling ... to have nothing and no one; except this time there was not even a couch to slump over or a ceiling to stare up at with dead, sullen eyes. Truly, happiness in his life only came and went without a lasting impact, as subtle and fleeting as the flick of a butterfly's wings.

Toffee hunched over and sighed. He opened his jacket to place the pouch of gold in the deep inner pocket, but something blocked it. That extra weight he'd been feeling ... he couldn't remember keeping anything in _that_ pocket. Had someone slipped something in? He reached and felt coarse paper between his fingers, wrapped around something thin and cylindrical. He gasped loudly and pulled out a scroll. _The_ scroll.

_...It can't be._

He unfurled it and looked the words up and down, reading them aloud in a breathless whisper:

"The daughter of Queen Eclipsa and the Monster King Globgor, Meteora Butterfly, was swiftly sent away from Mewni soon after Eclipsa's crystallization, and replaced with the daughter of..."

He need not read the rest again. He wouldn't bear it. It seemed only yesterday he'd first discovered those words, and it took a moment to remember that, for him, it _was_ only yesterday. What he held in his hands barely seemed real, his fingers tracing up and down the ancient parchment paper expecting it to disappear into thin air at any second. But here it was. Somehow having survived the laundry room. Having eluded the Knights of the Wash. Eluded the Magic High Commission.

The Scroll of Eclipsa!

_How? It wasn't on me when I was crystallized! The last person who had it was-_

Toffee's eyes snapped wide open at the memory.

_Festivia!_

That day. They were cornered, every member of the Magic High Commission blocking off their escape routes. Festivia had held the scroll in her hands then... hugged him. She'd wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest, then walked away to face them. Of course. She must've done it then. Toffee forced a single chuckle. Sleight of hand. The art of the thief, just like he'd taught her.

His eyes went blurry, and he rolled the paper back up before his tears could stain it. He understood her request, crystal clear. The Scroll of Eclipsa held tightly to his face, through white knuckles and an aching heart, Toffee of Septarsis knew what he had to do.

_My Tivi, I promise I'll find Eclipsa's daughter for you. And I _will_ put her back on the throne where she belongs ... even if I can't put you back where you belong, my child._

* * *

*Song: The Next Right Thing

Movie: Frozen 2


End file.
